


Hercules Sanders; Relationship Counseler

by nosecoffee



Series: The Asshole Who Lives in My Room (And is Not My Roommate) [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Hercules bakes, Laf whistles real loud, Part 4, Reincarnation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6312697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He pulled Alex’s coffee cup from his grasp and took a swig for himself. He grimaced.</p><p>“Gilbert du Motier, de La Fayette.” Gilbert’s hand was warm in Alex’s.</p><p>“Lafayette?” Alex shuddered, knowing the particular historical figure with the name, and dreading Jefferson’s grasp on people’s memories.</p><p> </p><p>Alex meets Hercules and Laf, and Herc tries to give him relationship advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hercules Sanders; Relationship Counseler

**Author's Note:**

> More to come I promise

Alex hadn’t stuck around. He didn’t like that he’d left Lizzie and John to battle it out, in the same room as a meddling former-president ghost, but his life was weird as it was.

He was at an all-hours cafe a few blocks away from the dorm and a long-haired boy passed and refilled his mug with a smirk. And then, looking around quickly, he sat down on the other side of Alex’s booth.

“Hey,” The boy said in a thick French accent. “I do not usually do this, and you can ask me to leave, but I have got no one else to serve, the boss is up the back, and you look lonely. What is up?”

Alex stared into his coffee instead of meeting the boy’s eyes. “Let’s just say an ex met another ex and it’s all going down. And I’m a complete chicken, and bolted.”

The French boy whistled. “That’s got to be harsh,  _ mon amie _ .”

“You’re telling me. And the problem gets worse when one of them thinks I’m someone else, and is trying to convince the other that I am them.”

French boy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Now you are not making any sense. Maybe I should take this away from you, you don not sound like you need it.”

He pulled Alex’s coffee cup from his grasp and took a swig for himself. He grimaced.

“Gilbert du Motier, de La Fayette.” Gilbert’s hand was warm in Alex’s.

“Lafayette?” Alex shuddered, knowing the particular historical figure with the name, and dreading Jefferson’s grasp on people’s memories.

Gilbert shook his head. “ _ Non _ , people get mixed up, quite a lot. It is alright, you are not the first,  _ mon amie. _ ”

“Alex. Faucette.”

Gilbert nodded. “I have heard about you. Young. Smart. You are here on a scholarship,  _ oui _ ?”

“ _ Oui _ ,” Alex agreed. Gilbert nodded again and whistled, loud and piercing.

There was a shout and a crash from the kitchen, and he heard a someone yell, “Gilbert!” before a boy with broad shoulders and a beanie on, stumbled out of the kitchen, wiping custard off his forehead,

“What is it?” The boy asked, expression stormy.

“Alex here is having relationship troubles.” The boy sighed and gestured for Gilbert to scooch over.

“You’re lucky I just put the tarts in the oven. They take a little while.” The boy shook his head sadly. “I couldn’t save the second batch, because you  _ fucking scared the shit out of me Gilbert _ !”

The boy started whacking Gilbert with a teatowel and Gilbert yowled and cowered into a ball, yelling French profanities at his workmate.

“ _ Ah arrêter, arrêter! Je vais vous poursuivre, Herc! Arrêtez! Je suis désolé pour les tartes! _ ”

Eventually the boy stopped hitting him and sat down, finally looking at Alex.

“Right, down to business, my name is Hercules Sanders, and I don’t really give a shit about your romantical problems, but I will listen and I will try to give you good advice. Got it?”

Alex nodded, slightly alarmed by Hercules’ bluntness, but grateful nonetheless.

“So, what’s up?”

Alex sighed and looked at the table. “Before I explain, you guys know American history right?”

Hercules and Gilbert exchange a look and then turn back to him, nodding, confusedly.

“Well…”

* * *

 

All in all, it takes about two hours for him to explain.

Both Gilbert and Hercules listen attentively, apart from the time Hercules had to get up and pull the tarts out of the oven.

“So,” Alex finished. “How do you reckon you’re gonna fix that?”

“You’re saying, a former US president is haunting your dorm room, and all of your friends, and pretty much everyone on campus, probably including myself and Gilbert, are reincarnations of Founding Fathers and people who fought in the revolutionary war?”

“Pretty much.”

Gilbert was gaping. Hercules nodded. “Alex, man, I hate to break this to you, but that’s not a relationship problem, that’s just crazy talk.”

Alex sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “If it’s crazy talk, then why have you been sitting here, listening to me for two hours?”

Hercules pointed at him. “You’re a very perceptive, Alex Faucette.” He put his teatowel on the table and stood up. “I’d like to meet your Thomas Jefferson.”

Gilbert stood up quickly. “Me as well.”

“When does your shift end?”

Hercules grimaced at the window. “Whenever Charlie Lee and Quincey Adams decide to turn up.”

Alex frowned and grabbed a napkin, scribbling on it with a sharpie from his pocket. “Call me when you both get off and I’ll give you directions to my dorm.”

They nodded and he nodded at both of them. “I think I’ve been gone long enough, I better head back.”

“Best wishes, Alex Faucette.” Gilbert said, grinning.

“Seeya, Alex.”

“Bye guys.”

 

 

****Fin.** **

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr is @nose-coffee and you can send me prompts, comment on this fic, or just leave kudos. Either are fantastic. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed.


End file.
